


Sleepless

by baranduin



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003), Lord of the Rings - Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for angstslashhope's birthday in 2002. Movie-verse and fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angstslashhope (Hope)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/gifts).



_"Everywhere I lie, there's a dirty great root sticking in my back."_

_"Just shut your eyes … imagine you're back in your own bed … a soft mattress and a lovely feather pillow …"_

_"It's not working, Mr. Frodo! I'm never gonna get to sleep out here."_

Frodo smiled, his lips curving up lazily, and pulled his blanket close to his chin. _"Me neither, Sam."_ Not that he had the excuse of tree roots poking him in tender places. Perhaps if he did, his _problem_ would leave him be and he could get some sleep. When he heard continued rustling—was that chewing?—he turned over and faced Sam.

Slitting his eyes open just a little bit, Frodo watched Sam through his eyelashes. In the flickering light of the dying fire, the little tongues of flame flared up to reveal a bare forearm strong and thick, covered lightly with wheat-colored hair glinting bright gold against the dark night.

Oh, dear. This was not helping at all, no indeed. Actually, there was only one possible course of action to Frodo's way of thinking.

"Sam?" Frodo's voice was soft, just loud enough to bridge the few feet between them.

"Sorry, Mr. Frodo … was I making too much noise?"

Frodo watched Sam rise up on one elbow and peer at him with wide eyes. "No, not at all. I … I was just thinking."

"And?" When Sam smiled at Frodo, wordlessly prodding him to continue, Frodo felt his skin tingle all over, quick and light and utterly unbearable. Just as it always did when Frodo watched Sam work in the garden, his fingers buried deep in the fecund soil that was obedient to his will. But always there had been someone else close by during those times, some passerby with sharp eyes and a clever hobbity tongue that surely would have renewed itself at every inn in the four farthings. Until now.

With a quick swallow for courage, Frodo continued. "I was thinking I never gave you a present for my birthday. We ended up leaving Hobbiton so quickly that I just … well … I guess it slipped my mind."

Sam laughed, rich and deep, and it warmed Frodo—enough to continue.

"Don't you want to know what it is?"

"That I do … though I don't rightly know what you could have, seeing as I did all your packing for you."

Frodo smiled widely at that, giggling a little to himself that his present was most certainly not something that you could secret away in a pack. He hoped Sam would like it, was almost sure that he would, for Frodo had seen the quick hungry looks when Sam thought no one was watching.

"It's not in my pack. You have to come over here to get it."

Sam jumped up so quickly that Frodo's heart skipped a beat before continuing with such a hard thump that he thought for a second it had dropped into his stomach. After Sam made fast work of the distance between them, he knelt at Frodo's side, his face alight with curiosity and … something else. Frodo was sure of it.

"Where is it?" Sam asked eagerly.

When Frodo answered, his throat had tightened up so much that his voice came out in a whisper, stark and ragged. "Here." He kicked his blankets back and held out his arms. "Me … if you want …" Before he could finish, his throat did indeed close up and strangle his final words though he knew he had said enough. Now it was up to Sam.

Frodo forced himself to keep his eyes open and his gaze steady, told himself sternly that if Sam did not want him, he must not get angry, must try to hide most of his disappointment.

But Sam did want him, and he proceeded to show his Frodo just how much. He reached out his work-roughened hand and caressed Frodo's cheek, and Frodo thought he would die of pleasure and love and delight just from that one loving touch. A touch that, for all the calluses and rough patches of skin on Sam's hand, could never be anything but gentle and tender.

Somehow it all became a tangle of arms and legs and blankets twisting and catching before falling free and everything came easy and right and true. Each discovery seemed the best one … until a new patch of sensitive skin was uncovered and stroked and exclaimed over.

_"There?"_

_"Yes … oh, please …"_

Bare skin was the best, smooth skin open to avid mouths and seeking fingers. Or maybe sighing mouth pressed to sighing mouth was best, wet warm tongues curling around each other, greeting each other, learning each other fully for the first time.

_"So good, Sam."_

_"I didn't know you wanted …"_

But Frodo stopped Sam's words with another kiss and pressed his body full against Sam's, their members stiff and wanting against each other, hot and moist and perfect, all feeling rushing there now in urgent rhythm.

When Sam arched up against Frodo and cried out, Frodo opened his eyes and watched Sam's face contort with pleasure and it filled Frodo with the most ineffable joy that he had ever felt.

Afterwards, they lay together whispering for long minutes, their new words of love soothing them finally into sleep, their bodies curved against each other so naturally. Just as Frodo was dropping off, Sam's chest a warm shield against his back, he heard a quiet rustling in the brush.

They were still in the Shire, so Frodo was not terribly alarmed. He looked toward the bushes and met a pair of bright eyes looking at him from the cover of autumn-tinted leaves, curious eyes that blinked once or twice thoughtfully before winking out. Frodo strained forward a bit and chuckled when he saw a bushy tail disappearing back into the brush.

Sam mumbled sleepily, "What are you laughing at now?"

"Nothing … just a fox."

"Was he watching us?"

"Oh, I think so."

This time they both laughed, safe and secure in the heart of the Shire night. Together.


End file.
